Looks Can Be Deceiving
by moonlighter01
Summary: Contrary to what everybody thinks, Tony Stark is actually the youngest one of the Avengers. Written as a fill for a prompt on avengerkink.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This is my first story ever (published, at least) and it is a fill for a prompt I read on avengerkink. It's a one-shot.**

**Rated: T for language.**

**Title: Looks can be deceiving.**

**I don't own the avengers (sadly)**

**The prompt I mean is this one: **

** ?thread=18864439#t18864439**

When the Avengers entered the living room in Stark Tower, the sight they had expected the least to see greeted their eyes. They stared agape from the middle of the room at the sleeping man on their couch.

It took them a moment to realize it was none other than Tony Stark laying there on the couch. He didn't look the ways he always used to look at all.

His hair, always well-kept, was all ruffled and spread all over his forehead.

The next thing that got their attention was his clothes. The usually greasy, faded, worn-out but still ridiculously expensive pair of jeans he always wore in his workshop had been replaced with an old, grey and plain pair of sweatpants they had never seen. His t-shirt was old too, and had MIT written on it.

But the thing that shocked them the most was his clean-shaved face. His trademark goatee was gone and without it the man seemed ridiculously young, barely out of his twenties at most.

They all looked at Thor, who was standing there, trying to avoid their half-accusing, half amused gazes. Just that morning during breakfast, Thor had nonchalantly commented that in Asgard, a beard like Tony's would be considered utterly comic and absurd because he (and his whole realm, apparently) thought a decent beard should be wild, majestic and long, just the opposite of Tony's.

And Thor had concluded his statement with a loud "and that, Friend Stark, is the reason why I believe you should shave that unspeakably absurd attempt of a midgardian beard of yours, or grow it the way a man would feel compelled to."

Tony, caught off-guard at first by Thor's lesson on how to grow beards, recovered quickly, put on his best face of feigned hurt and then said, with his hand over his chest:

"Why, Thor Odinson, thee hath hurt my feelings in a horrible and heartless manner and now I feel compelled to retreat to my workshop to wallow in my dishonor."

And with that he had left the kitchen with his cup of coffee in his hand, and fifteen minutes later they had all gone to the gym to spar or, in Bruce's case, to the 'Awesome meditation place for Brucie and the Big Green Furby'. And when they finished and went to the living room to find a recently clean-shaved Tony sleeping on the couch.

"Why, my intention was not to force the Man of Iron to shave his strange-looking beard" said Thor defensively when the others kept looking at him.

"Yeah, okay, whatever, but have you guys realized how young he looks? He looks almost like a kid right out of college" said Clint amused, taking a step closer to Tony.

"Yes, he does, it's weird. He's the oldest one of us, isn't he? I mean, aside from Thor and me" said Steve.

"I guess so, but has anyone ever asked him how old he is?" asked Bruce.

"Yes, you do that. Ask the cocky, always-trying-to-look-cool-and-young man over there how old he really is" answered Natasha.

"Good point. And don't forget it's his tower. Piss him off and you end up living under a bridge, or worse, in a S.H.I.E.L.D's apartment. I'd rather not risk" said Clint, now standing behind the couch Tony was sleeping on.

"Hey, what are you doing, Clint?" asked Steve.

"What do you think? Waking him up" answered Clint happily.

"You'll end up living under a bridge" said Natasha, and Clint scowled at her.

"Still better than my last apartment. Besides, he's not such a prick. He won't kill me or anything."

"I'll make sure those words are engraved on your tombstone after he's finished with you" said Bruce amused. He knew the way Tony was when someone that wasn't Pepper woke him up. It wasn't nice.

"You have little faith" said Clint as he took hold of the couch to push it and thro Tony to the floor.

But right before he could do anything, Tony murmured something and rolled, still asleep, to end up face down. When he moved, his wallet dropped from his pocket and Clint, changing his mind, walked back to stand in front of the couch and picked it up.

"Changed my mind. Who wants to know Sleeping Beauty's age?" he asked as he walked to the other couch the rest of the team was now sitting on. Clint sat down as well and waved the wallet in front of their faces. "Come on, you're just as curious as me."

"He's so going to kill you" said Steve, but he leaned closer. Showing his interest.

"Us. He's so going to kill us" corrected Bruce. "You in, Natasha?"

"He won't dare to try to kill me, so…" she answered. "What about you, Thor?"

"I indeed believe I should not, but I am fairly curious about Friend Stark's age."

"Okay, so here we go" said Clint happily, opening the wallet and taking Tony's ID. The others leaned closer but couldn't see anything.

"Son of a bitch" said Clint as he looked back at the man on the other couch. "Unbelievable."

"What?" asked Steve, more curious now.

"See for yourself" said Clint, throwing the ID to Steve, who caught it on instinct.

"No way" said Steve after looking at it.

"Fill us in, will you?" said Natasha.

"You're not going to believe it" said he as he handed her the ID.

"Bozhe moi"

"What, is he like sixty years old or something?" asked Bruce, getting a bit impatient. "Thor and I also want to know."

She handed him the ID and he took off his glasses and squinted at the card, clearly not believing what he was seeing. "You gotta be kidding me" said he at last, clearly surprised.

"I demand to know the Man of Iron's age" boomed Thor, and they heard Tony mumble something from the couch he was sleeping on, but surprisingly he didn't wake up.

"Jesus, Rapunzel, calm down. You are going to wake him up" said Clint, and now they all stared at him.

"You were going to, not five minutes ago" pointed out Bruce.

"Yeah, but like I said, I changed my mind" said Clint defensively. "You wanna know, Thor? Okay, I'll tell you, but first you gotta tell me what your bet is."

"This is most unfair. All of you know except me. I demand to be given this strange card in order to find out his age."

"Thor, you wouldn't understand how to read it on the card" said Clint, amused due to the demigod's frustration. "You wanna know? Okay. He's 26. 26 years old."

"Thor's mouth opened and he stared at Clint before saying

"This is clearly another joke of the Eye of the Hawk. Friend Stark cannot be as young as you claim."

"Here, see for yourself then" said Clint as he snatched the card from Bruce's hand and handed it to Thor. "See that over there?" said Clint pointing to a group of figures, "that's his date of birth."

"This is most surprising" boomed Thor when he saw it.

"What's most surprising, Goldilocks?" asked Tony sleepily from his couch as he sat down and rubbed his eyes.

"Why, Friend Stark, you are awake. Come here with us."

"Um, okay" said Tony, a bit taken aback, and he stood up and walked towards the other couch while the others kept staring at him.

"What? I just shaved, it's not like I grew a second head or something, awesome as it would be, though" said Tony when he saw their faces.

"It's not that" said Steve slowly, trying to find the right words, "it's just that Clint, well, um, you dropped your wallet and…"

Realization dawned on Tony and he stopped midway.

"No" said Tony. "You haven't… God, tell me you haven't…" he trailed off and looked at them.

"Why didn't you tell us anything?" asked Steve, and Tony snapped.

"Well, you never asked, did you?" said he, a mixture of defiance, anger and rage in his voice. "Go ahead, Cap, now tell me I'm too young to be a member of your super secret boy band."

"What? Tony, no, it's not what I meant, it's just that—"

"That what?"

"That you should have told us. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't have treated the way I did—"

"That's exactly why I didn't say anything" yelled Tony. "I didn't want anyone treating me like I was made of glass, or like I was a defenseless kid you have to be careful with because he might break down. I just wanted to be your equal."

Thor looked up suddenly when he heard that last sentence and he looked at Tony. Still, standing, angry and, yes, sad too, Tony reminded him of his brother when he had said that same sentence to him, and Thor couldn't help but telling Tony all he regretted not telling Loki then.

"You have always been our equal, Friend Stark, and we wouldn't have thought any differently of you. Please forgive us for our curiosity and be sure we will not treat you any differently. You have proved yourself worthy of this team and of our comradeship, and we are utterly proud of having a member so young, brave and prepared in our team."

The room fell silent after Thor's speech and Tony stared at him, in amazement and not believing him completely. Before he could react, Thor had stood up and hugged him tightly, carried him to the couch they were sharing and dropped him there.

Then they all started talking again, and they asked him the obvious question he knew he was going to face sometime.

"How come you are so young? I mean, Howard was more or less my age when I took the serum, and well, 1986 seems a little bit late for him to have kids."

"Hey, don't ask me. I guess he just got lucky or something. Either that or I'm so awesome the world couldn't go on if I wasn't born" said Tony grinning.

"And what about MIT and all that stuff?" asked Clint. "I mean, I thought you told us that by 2003 you had three doctorates."

"And I did. I just went to college very young. And by 2007 I had seven of them" said Tony, proud of himself.

"What about Afghanistan?" asked Bruce quietly, almost a whisper.

Tony looked at him and then sighed. "Well, it was three years ago, two years after I took over the company. But it doesn't matter. I'm sure as hell the kidnappers wouldn't have cared about how old I was."

Then the room fell silent again while Tony just looked absent-mindedly at the wall in front of him.

"Hey" he said finally, pointing an accusing finger at Clint. "Give me my wallet and ID back."

"Here, Friend Stark. Take your card. And allow me to say your beard, although it is most strange, looks very well on you, and therefore you should grow it back, for your face without it is most unnerving."

"Okay, I don't know if I should take that as a compliment" said Tony as Thor handed him his ID. "Now Legolas, where's my wallet?"

"Here you go, Sleeping Beauty" said Clint as he handed him his wallet and rushed to the air vents, crawling inside them. Thirty seconds later, Clint heard Tony shout:

"Clint, you bird brain, give me my money back! I had two thousand dollars there, and I know where you sleep. Believe me, you don't wanna go back to your old S.H.I.E.L.D's apartment. Stop hiding in the vents and face me like a man. Clint Barton, stop laughing right now."

He just laughed harder and kept crawling.

THE END


	2. Chapter 2

******Author's Note: Hi, I know this what supposed to be a one-shot, and I honestly don't even know if there's even anyone out there who is still interested in this story, but anyway, this came to me and I felt like writing it down and posting it. I hope you like it**

**CHAPTER 2**

Tony was wandering into the kitchen in search for another coffee when he heard a loud noise coming from the living room the Avengers shared, resembling the sound his latest StarkPhone had made when DUM-E had rolled over it, only this time it was like ten times louder. Dreading the worst (reasonably, given the people he lived with) he headed towards the living room instead.

As he stepped in, he saw Thor, the Norse god of thunder, dreaded throughout the nine realms, heir to the Asgardian throne, trying clumsily to pick up the remnants of the destroyed TV (the third one that month, and counting), Mjölnir set aside on the floor next to him.

Tony sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, he was getting too old for that shit, okay, not really, he wasn't that old actually, and now his team knew, but anyway, it was his tower and he could complain as much as he wanted to. It was another matter entirely whether he dared to complain _out loud_ or not, but really, if it was you living with two master assassins, would you?

"Thor, man, what was that? I swear I could hear the wires and circuits scream in agony when you smashed the TV, for Odin's sake." Asked Tony as he strode in and sat on the couch. He wasn't angry, seriously, it was physically impossible to stay mad at Thor for longer than 10 seconds, since one of Thor's superpowers was the ability to get that kicked puppy (Golden Retriever, in Tony's opinion) look on his face that seemed to be able to make people puke rainbows if they looked directly at it for 30 seconds. So staying mad was out of the question, Tony had resigned long ago.

"Friend Tony, I am terribly sorry for your loss, but the speaking images inside the entertaining magic box were mocking me, and as you must understand, my pride and manhood bound me to battle them. Now I remember those people do not dwell there, but, infuriated as I was, I didn't care."

"Okay, no harm done buddy, it could be worse, you didn't destroy the Wii this time. Anyway, what did the speaking images say to piss you off?"

"It wasn't my fault I broke the Wii machine, it was the Eye of the Hawk's. But I broke the magic box because there were two people there who were saying how happy they were to be together and happy, and I was reminded of my Lady Jane and I can't visit her now, so I got angry. I am terribly sorry."

"Nah, don't be, it's understandable. I'll have JARVIS buy one later."

"Aw, Starky, how sweet of you. Are you getting soft in your, damn, I can't say 'old age', can I? Well, you get what I mean, a couple weeks ago you would have made him pay for it. Showing weakness, maybe?" mocked Clint from somewhere above them in the air vents. Tony was starting to consider seriously the idea of having traps ready for Clint up there, just as revenge.

"Bird brain, care to come down here sweetheart? Thor has just told me you're the reason all my high scores in Super Mario Bros, which were hard as hell to get, by the way, got erased when _you_ made him break our Wii and the games. You have any idea how I treated our resident god over here? I revoked his Pop Tarts privileges for a week, man. And it's all your fault."

There were some soft noises and a _thump_ when Clint dropped from the ceiling.

"_My_ fault? You kidding me, right? He was beating me at Mario Kart. It was a matter of pride. I don't regret anything." Clint answered shrugging, sitting on the couch next to Tony.

"Ok, fine, whatever. But I changed my mind. _You_ will be paying for the next TV. That's what you get for erasing my life's work." Tony stood up suddenly and solemnly placed his right hand over his chest, looking at Thor straight in the eye. "Thor, I'll have him buy you a whole stack of Pop Tarts too, I am an Avenger and I will avenge you, I will right all the wrongs I made while I was fooled by Feathers. I was too young to realize the consequences of my actions. You went through Pop Tarts withdrawal because of me! So take it as a compensation gift." Tony stated with (somewhat) feigned solemnity, which gained him some chuckles from Clint, and a dumbfounded yet slightly contemplative look from the god, which had him wondering for a bit about the Asgardian's Code of Honor, or whatever it was that made Thor look like he was willing to accept Tony's request without complaint, never minding about the stupidity of it.

Thor nodded hesitantly, as if unsure of his choice, but Tony patted (awkwardly, let's face it, the guy is probably taller than him in the suit) his back reassuringly, making Thor smile at him. "That's it, you heard it right, I will have him buy the TV and the Pop Tarts, don't worry" said Tony when he saw the baffled look on Thor's face.

"Hey, rewind, Peter Pan. I'm broke, how do you expect me to buy a new TV?" asked Clint outraged.

"Hawkie, you little liar. You stole two thousand dollars from me, you have enough money for a TV." Tony answered, by now he had left Thor's side and was walking towards the kitchen, intent on getting his much deserved cup of coffee.

"This man is unbelievable" Clint muttered as he plopped down on the sofa, propping up his feet on the small table in front of him.

"Friend Clint, don't be sad, I'm sure the Man of Iron will have no complaints regarding the purchase of the television. It appears to me he only meant it as a joke. Nevertheless, I would really love to have more Pop Tarts to eat, since we have almost run out of them, so I'll be here waiting." Said Thor, looking at Clint expectantly, as if expecting the man to stand up immediately and rush out of the door to ambush Costco and bring him all the Pop Tarts as spoils of war.

"Man, I gotta be dead and this is God's way of mocking me." Clint sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Fine Thor, don't turn your kicked puppy look against me, I'll have someone bring you some later. Jesus, Tony's right. You're like a huge, fluffy, Golden Retriever when you want to."


	3. Chapter 3

**First of all, thank you so much to all those who have favourited, followed, reviewed or read. It means a lot to me, seriously. I hope you like this chapter :)**

Tony Stark hasn't slept for 36 hours, give or take. Contrary to popular belief, it's not that he dislikes sleeping. In fact, when he is not assaulted by nightmares, he loves sleep, cherishes the fact that he can disconnect from the world, even though it's only for a moment. But his genius mind has priorities, and building is in the top three, next to Iron Man and, surprisingly, logging into Wikipedia and trolling the hell out of college kids looking for information for their assignments.

And today (or tonight, depends on how you look at it) is one of those days he has a streak of inspiration and feels the need to stay up and not sleep until he is satisfied with his work. So that's one of the reasons he is in the kitchen in Stark Tower, lights out except for the steady blue glow of his arc reactor, pouring himself a steaming cup of black coffee. The other reason is that the specially designed and modified coffee maker he has in his workshop has suddenly and mysteriously broken, due to unknown causes *cough _DUM-E and Butterfingers fighting over the fire extinguishers privileges _cough_* _and is still awaiting repairs.

He's already finished his second cup and is thinking of taking the entire pot to the workshop when he hears shuffling from somewhere down the corridor. A bit confused, he takes a look at his watch. 03:37 A.M. Who the hell would be awake and wandering through the tower at 3 in the morning?

He listens carefully to the steps coming closer and tries to guess. Thor is out of the question. If he wasn't snoring and out cold, he wouldn't exactly be shuffling, he would be jumping and running and booming.

It's not likely to be Clint either, the man has the habit of going everywhere through the air ducts, not the hallways like ordinary, boring people.

It's definitely not Natasha. She has proved on more than one occasion that you wouldn't notice her until she was in front of you, emptying her second cup of coffee and looking at you smugly.

That only leaves two people left, Steve and Bruce. If Tony had to bet, his money would be on Bruce, because Bruce is a scientist, and Tony was sure he often stayed up working on radiation or anything he fancied at the moment.

So Tony is rather surprised when he sees Steve step into the kitchen and go straight to a chair in front of the table, not even sparing a glance around. Given the fact that Tony, with his built-in flashlight, isn't exactly what you would call discreet, anyone would think that Steve had noticed Tony the moment he walked into the kitchen. But apparently he'd had too much in his head, because when Tony came closer to him and put a hand in his shoulder, the super soldier startled and turned around, defensive stance ready until he saw Tony and relaxed.

"Jesus, Tony, don't sneak up on people like that, you are going to give me a heart attack."

"Seriously Cap? Of all the people in this tower, you call _me_ sneaky?" answered Tony, pointing to his arc reactor.

"Sorry, it's just that I have too much going around in my head and I didn't notice you were here," replied Steve.

"It's okay, I'm here only because my coffee maker is dead and I needed coffee like, yesterday. But I can leave if you want, I'll just take the pot to the workshop" answered the younger man as he motioned towards the door and tentatively took a step away from the table.

"What, no, I mean, I don't mind company. I'm actually glad I'm not the only one up at this time."

"Okay," Tony smiled as he sat down next to Steve, "so what's bothering that patriotic head of yours?"

Steve sighed. He wasn't sure if he should be speaking about the turmoil in his head, least of all with Tony, but a look into Tony's eyes told him that, under all that amusement and nonchalance, there was concern and worry. So after a few seconds, which he spent trying to put his erratic thoughts in something resembling order, he answered.

"It's not what, it's _who_."

That statement gained him a raised eyebrow and a cocky half smile from the billionaire. "Woah Steve, you are quite a fast learner, aren't you? You are catching up with our century amazingly fast. That's the way half of the world feels nowadays. Next thing I know, you are recording a single and then releasing an album named 'Super Secret Boy Band' full of cheesy love songs," Steve shot him a three quarters annoyed, one quarter amused look, so Tony promptly added "Okay, I'm done, no more jokes. What is it? You can tell me. I swear I won't laugh for over five minutes. It's a once-in-a-lifetime deal, you should take it."

"It's, well, it's _you_, Tony"

"Whaaaaaat?" answered Tony, and Steve was sure he would have spit all his coffee if he had had any left. "I mean, I'm, um, flattered, that's the word, it's just that, well, I'm not exactly looking for anything right now, I'm kind of married to my work… Oh God, I make it sound as if I'm making out with my armor, Christ, I'm rambling again, I swear my mind is like Wikipedia, you go there looking for some info about a random actor and five minutes later you end up reading a rather interesting dissertation about Finnish politics in the mid-fifties, I swear I don't do it on purpose it's just th—"

"Tony, shut up for a minute and let me explain," interrupted an exasperated Steve, with his face now redder than the Iron Man chest plate. "It's nothing like that; it's just that after we found out about your age, I feel like everything I knew about you is gone, you know? I keep replaying these conversations between us and it's so wrong, I was so wrong. So now I'm trying to erase all that and start anew, but it's hard, it's all a blur and I don't know where 'old you' ends and 'new you' starts, and it drives me crazy. It's like, I think you must feel the same way when you're trying to solve an equation, then you are halfway, someone points a mistake out, and you realize you've been wrong right from the beginning and you don't want to get rid of all your effort, but deep inside you know you have to, and you desperately try to scavenge for correct calculations amongst all the rubbish. It's taking me a lot to separate both of you, and it frustrates me." Steve said, resolutely looking at his suddenly very interesting hands.

"Crap, Steve, no offense, but you got it all wrong. There is no 'old Tony' and 'new Tony'. I've always been my annoying, arrogant, funny, handsome, clever self. My age doesn't define me. And I'm not a kid either. I'm an adult, and believe it or not, I've been behaving like an adult for a few years now. So what I'm trying to say is, I wouldn't behave differently if I was forty or if I was ninety, and I don't want anyone treating me any differently. I'm sure as hell I wouldn't have acted any differently than I did in the past, simply because I can't. I know it must be hard to understand, but I seriously don't change my behavior or attitude when I'm around people who know my real age. The only reason I didn't tell you right at the beginning was because I feared it was a reason to kick me out of the team. Now that I know that won't be the case, I don't mind any of you guys knowing it, as long as you don't start thinking that everything that happened _before_ is false, or irrelevant. It's important because that's how we came to know each other, Steve, and my age doesn't change any of that. I didn't fake any of that, believe me. So stop worrying and trying to scavenge for calculations, and solve the damn equation once and for all, because, who knows? Maybe you were not wrong at the beginning, and that person who said you had made a mistake is a jerk who doesn't know a damn thing about mathematics. Have I made myself clear?"

Steve nodded, still trying to grasp the meaning behind Tony's words. Maybe Tony was right after all. He knew Tony hadn't behaved differently around them, and all he wanted back was the same. Steve made up his mind. He could do that, it was the least he could do for Tony.

"Good, I don't like repeating myself… too much…" Tony trailed off as he found one of the dozens of StarkPads he had everywhere (even the bathroom, you never know when you are going to get an idea) on the table and turned it on.

They spent the next hour in comfortable silence, Tony drinking coffee and Steve sketching lazily on a notebook he had found on a cupboard in the kitchen (don't ask him how it ended up there), the sun rays from the sunrise slowly seeping through the window into the room in oranges and light reds, until Tony spoke up.

"Wow, look at the time it is. I should probably go back to the workshop, I'm sure my babies are missing me. You should probably go for your morning run, by the time you come back I'm sure there will be pancakes, a shower and a couch waiting for you."

Tony took the coffee pot and headed towards the door after patting Steve on the back. When he was about to get to the hallway, Steve spoke up.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, I needed that"

"Not at all, Cap, I needed that too."

And with that, Tony left the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, Steve was running near Central Park, more relaxed than he had been in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back! Sorry for taking so long to update, but I 've been having exams for almost two weeks now, and I hadn't been able to write anything. Luckily I'm done now :)**

**By the way, I don't own either The Avengers or Doctor Who (I just finished watching season 7, awesome, BTW, and wanted to make a reference).**

He hadn't felt like that for ages. Literally. His inner child had been demanding a vacation, and when you've lived in Malibu during almost your whole adult life, it's sort of pointless to go to the beach, so travelling abroad had seemed the best option, and he had chosen Cardiff on a whim. Now, as he lay on his back, the soft grass tickling his fingertips as his hands roamed slowly up and down the patch of grass he could reach effortlessly, he realized that idea may possibly have been the best one he'd ever had in a long time.

He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, the sunrays were bathing him, but he couldn't care less at the moment. It was highly unlikely, if not impossible, to get a sunburn due to Cardiff's weather. An indefinite amount of time later, something blocked the sunrays that bathed his face and he opened his eyes blearily to squint at the culprit of interrupting what could potentially have been an impromptu nap. For a split second he half expected to find a squirrel or a dog staring down at his face, but when the world that surrounded him came into focus again he realized it was not an animal, but a person. He immediately realized that if he had to choose between any animal (dinosaurs included) and the man that was staring down at him, he would willingly give himself up at the nearest zoo.

"Jesus fucking Christ on a bike riding down the highway to hell, what the hell are you doing here?" Tony exclaimed as he sat up as fast as he could, discreetly crawling a few inches away from the man.

"Oh, is it fear what I see in your eyes, Stark?" mocked Nick Fury with a half smirk on his face.

"What? No, I wouldn't actually call it _fear_, I'd rather call it 'regard for my survival and well-being', but whatever suits you, buddy," answered Tony as he picked his sunglasses up from where they were laying on the grass, next to his Stark phone, and put them on with a flourish.

He did so to try to hide the disappointment (and a little bit of fear) that was reflected on his face as best as he could, but it seemed to him it was a losing battle. He had wanted to get away from S.H.I.E.L.D and the superhero world for a while, and he had left New York in the capable hands of his fellow Avengers for a week, on condition that he would come back as soon as he could if he was needed. He still phoned and talked to them, and so far the most exciting thing that had happened over there was a paintball fight that had ended up with Natasha beating the hell out of everyone who dared even aim at her. So he had hoped he could have a peaceful week on his own, but apparently the world seemed to be against him (oh, what a surprise, he hadn't seen that one coming…).

The awkward silence seemed to stretch for too long, so Tony decided it was time for his good action of the day and, acting against what his survival instinct was practically shouting at him, he decided to break the silence and let Fury do whatever the hell he had wanted to do in the first place.

"So…" he drawled "what brings you to Cardiff? Looking for cheap eye-patches? I heard there's a shop just around that corner over there that's on sale. You should check it out."

Fury just chuckled, one tiny, cold, humourless chuckle that sent shivers down Tony's spine and made him wish he had his Iron Man suitcase with him, and looked at Tony straight in the eyes.

"Nothing as trivial as that, Stark," answered Fury, still not revealing anything.

"Oh, come on, stop being all mysterious with your short, enigmatic answers, just tell me what the hell you want with me, or leave me alone," said Tony, He was getting tired of the other man's secrecy, right then the only thing he wanted to do was lie down and relax, not solve riddles.

"Come with me" was Fury's only answer, and Tony begrudgingly grabbed his phone and stood up. He had to admit Fury had piqued his curiosity, but he wasn't going to let the Director win so easily.

"But Nick, what would the agents at S.H.I.E.L.D think if they saw us together? I can't flee with you, it's too risky, think of the consequences," mocked Tony with a look of feigned sadness and resignation on his face as he followed the older man out of the park. He may be doing what the Director had told him, but that didn't mean he couldn't laugh at him. It was something he was turning into an Olympic sport, 'laugh at people that could kill you with a snap of their fingers.'

Fury just ignored him and kept walking ahead of him, leading him through alleys and half deserted streets. They walked for half an hour, and Tony couldn't help but conjure theories (wilder as the minutes ticked by) regarding the sudden and mysterious appearance of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

After a few fruitless attempts at conversation, Tony decided to give up and just followed the man. He would get answers later.

Suddenly Fury stopped in front of a battered door, the house it belonged to barely standing, and Tony stopped beside him, looking at him questioningly.

"Nicky, if this is your subtle way of telling me you need funding, honey, there's no need. I'll lend you a bit of money, I'm that good. But don't go telling the press, I have a reputation to maintain."

"For God's sake, Stark, shut the fuck up and come inside, now," growled Fury. If Tony had been a self-conscious man, he might have done as he had been told. But you don't get Tony's reputation by following orders, so he acted, more on instinct than on purpose.

"Oh, he said shut up to me. How's that? You know what? I take back my offer, no money for you. You happy now?" said Tony as he stepped in after the Director.

Truth is he was both curious and a little scared. What the hell could Nick Fury want with (or from) him? And why on Earth had he chosen a dilapidated house in Cardiff to meet with him? He, once more, wished he had his Iron Man armour with him, although he rationally knew the Director wouldn't hurt him, right?

Fury, ignoring the millionaire's latest comment, led Tony to a living room down the main corridor.

Once inside, Fury sat on a chair and gestured to Tony inviting him to do so. He plopped down on an armchair close to the door (you never know if you'll have to flee, specially if you're meeting with a sinister Director slash pirate you don't trust) and placed his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, ready to listen to whatever it was Fury wanted to tell him. The Director opened his mouth and was about to speak, when suddenly the unmistakable _VORP VORP VORP _of the TARDIS filled the room.

For a split (and great) second Tony thought it was the Doctor that was just popping in for a visit (because any mad scientist knows that, given the right tools, you can build yourself a sonic screwdriver and a TARDIS and go around calling yourself 'Doctor'. He might try someday.).

However, he then disappointedly realized it was just his Stark phone. Bruce must have changed his ringtone again and he hadn't even noticed. The caller ID told him it was Bruce himself who was phoning him, so ignoring Fury's pissed off face, he picked up.

"Hey, Brucey, what's up? You changed my ringtone again, didn't you? You're such a bad person," greeted Tony with a cheery tone he only used with the people he really liked.

"Tony, sorry if I'm interrupting something, but you need to come back ASAP. We think Fury found out about your age and might be trying to locate you. We don't know where he is right now, so be careful. We don't know what he intends to do," said Bruce hurriedly.

"Oh, okay, good to know Bruce," deadpanned Tony. "Next time could you do me a favour and tell me before he is sitting right in front of me, don't you think?"

Fury just raised an eyebrow and smirked. 'Oh boy' thought Tony, 'I think I'm in trouble.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, here's the next update. I'm so so sorry for taking so much time, but I had my finals and couldn't get time to update. I just wanted to say thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favorited or added this story to their alerts. It really means a lot to me. Also, a special mention to LesstheHero because I told her I would, and because the guest character in this chapter is dedicated to her. On a side note, it contains slight spoilers for Agents of SHIELD, so I'd recommend you watched the awesome trailer first. And that's all. I hope you like it.**

"Well," drawled Tony, his mobile phone forgotten and still glued to his ear, "I know what you're thinking right now: 'I knew he couldn't look so goddamn sexy and hot and be older than thirty.' But hey, have you ever seen that Robert Downey Jr. bloke from the Sherlock Holmes movies? I'm always told I look a bit like him, and he's forty-something isn't he? So there, no need to feel ashamed I fooled you, I look older than I am. Is it the goatee? Is it the self confidence? Is it the money? I honestly don't know. I fool everyone. Not even Gods escape my fooling them. Ask Thor, the L'Óreal Asgardian God. It's a personality trait, next to the cleverness, the sassiness, the snarkiness and the awesomeness." Then, noticing the phone, Tony hurriedly put it in his pocket again.

Fury listened to Tony's speech with an impassive face, only breaking his 'I don't give a fuck' façade to slightly raise an eyebrow and smirk when he noticed Tony's fidgeting in his seat while fumbling to get his phone to his pocket. He saw from the corner of his eye how Tony subtly tried to inspect the room, clearly looking for a way out. He chuckled to himself, one of the most powerful men in the whole world, reduced to sitting on an armchair in a dilapidated house in Cardiff trying to outsmart a bastard with more secrets than days lived. And the funny thing is, he wasn't talking only about Tony now.

Then, with perfect timing as always, the door to the living room creaked open and a familiar voice filled the room before Tony got the chance to turn his head.

"Stark, I'm honoured to know you consider I am above Gods, but, really, just between us, I think I fit the 'Pepper told me' category better. But if you want to worship me, just know I'm a vengeful God rather than a benevolent one, so if you ever get close to my Lola again I swear to God I will personally destroy everything you hold dear. Understood?"

"Agent!" exclaimed Tony, relieved, "I knew you wouldn't let Captain Hook over here murder me and feed me to the sharks, you hate paperwork too much for that kind of thing. And in my defense I'll say I was just trying to see it there was something I could do. You know I'm mechanic too, right?"

"Yes, I know you're a mechanic, and you're pretty good at it too, but Lola is a classic, and I sincerely don't think a sassy GPS bickering with me over my driving choices really fits her style."

"Hey, it wasn't his fault. If Clint hadn't shouted 'Oh BURN' when I outsassed you, 'OneDirection' wouldn't have snarkily recommended you to go to the nearest chemist's to get some bandages! Besides, that wasn't even your car, you can't complain."

"Wait, wait, wait," Fury interrupted them before Coulson could reply, "are you implying, Agent Coulson, that you _knew_ Stark's age and never deemed it important enough to tell me?"

The calm in his voice only added to the uneasiness Tony had been feeling before Coulson had arrived, which had now come back with more intensity, it was as if he knew he didn't need to raise his voice to be menacing.

Unfortunately for the Director, Phil, the second most menacing person ever (seriously, try threatening someone using the word Supernanny and still manage to be scary, there's only one person that can do that) was, for some reason, on Tony's side rather than on Fury's. Before Tony could open his mouth to ask Fury rudely to shut up, Coulson spoke up.

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think Stark's age should matter to SHIELD given all that's happened over these last months. I knew his age almost since I met him back during the Stane fiasco and I can say that 75% of the times I've been with him he has behaved like a proper adult. The other 25%, I must admit he was a jerk, but that would have happened even if he had been 45 years old, he's Stark after a-"

Before Phil could continue, a baffled Tony put his hands up in the air.

"Hey, wait, am I going crazy or are you seriously, honestly, _defending_ me? God, I wish I was recording this, it's like a once-in-a-lifetime thing, right? I'm sure when I die and my life flashes before my eyes, this moment will be in 3D with a soundtrack by Hans Zimmer and audio commenta-"

"Shut up Stark or I'll turn around, leave and let Nick whatever it was he was about to do in the first place."

"No, you wouldn't. Pepper would kill you if you did. You may be the second most menacing person in the universe, but the first is Pepper and you know it. She has perfect aim, why do you think I try not to get her angry while she's wearing her high heels? I still have a scar on my forehead from that time I was naked on the news and I told her it was her fault because she had told me not to wear the suit to that party. God, that was a perfect throw, I think I heard the heel cutting through the air right before it hit me."

"Don't tempt me Stark. What makes you think she wouldn't team up with me? Now if you'll excuse us, Director, I think we will be leaving. I got Lola outside and I don't like this part of the city at all. Goodbye sir."

Tony looked Fury in the face. Despite the façade the Director was trying to maintain, Tony could see both the anger and the helplessness on his face. It was one thing for the Director to face Tony on his own with all the advantages of being the Director of SHIELD, but it was another thing entirely to do so in front of one of the most admired SHIELD agents. Coulson was now known as the man who, along with Natasha, had made the Avengers team possible. That kind of thing made you be more respected. Furthermore, he was the man ho had given all of them hope when everything seemed lost. It had been his 'I still believe in heroes' that had given them the last push they needed. So, even though the Director really wanted to settle things one and for all, he knew when he was defeated. He couldn't contradict Phil in this, because it was Avengers related. Contradicting Coulson now would be bad both for SHIELD and for the Director. Gritting his teeth, he bowed his head and gestured with his hand for Tony to stand up and leave before he snapped.

"Don't think this is over, Stark. This isn't the last of it. Believe me."

"Oh, I believe you. But now I have time to build a fort and hide there until I get my minions gathered and ready," said Tony as he hurriedly left the room before Coulson, who shrugged at the Director when he saw his facepalm. To Coulson the mystery wasn't how Tony had managed to hide such vital information from everybody, but how people could still believe Tony was some kind of mature adult.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, first things first, I'm really sorry for taking so much time to post this chapter, but I have been busy applying to college and when I realized I had neglected this story, I immediately started to write this. The only thing to say is that I see a bit of a plot ahead in this story ****(Woohoo), because I have to admit, in the beginning I just wrote what came to me, improvising. I think (and hope) that that will change from now on. Thank you again to all those who have read, favorited, followed or reviewed, really, I can't believe this story has really got this far. Thank you, really, because knowing that you like it is what keeps me writing. And without further ado, here is the next chapter. I really hope you like it. **

The ride back to his hotel was one of the most awkward ones Tony hade ever had the misfortune of experiencing. At first he had been perfectly willing to walk back there on his own. That was, until he realized he had no idea where he was. Thinking back, he regretted not having learnt by heart the route Fury and he had followed. That had been a stupid move on his part, but one he was sure he wouldn't make again.

Before he could even take his phone out of his pocket and get a taxi, Coulson had gripped his shoulder and led him towards Lola.

"Get into the car, Stark."

"What? No way. Last time I stepped close to that car, you explained to me very thoroughly all the ways you had to kill me and dispose of my body and make it look like it was an accident. Altough I have to admit, Agent, it was a hell of a PowerPoint slide show. It almost made me shed a tear."

"Get into the car or I will gladly put 'way number 16' into action."

Tony paled considerably and swallowed hard. Number 16. He shuddered. Definitely not the best of ways to leave this world and get a free room in what he liked to call 'The Afterlife Hotel'.

Ten minutes and two innuendos later, he was seriously considering the pros and cons of opening the glove box to take a sneak peak inside. Anything to abate his boredom.

But, as the most rational (and most ignored) part of his brain provided, the cons had already crushed the pros and buried them deep beneath the ground. And, contrary to popular belief, he was far from stupid. Alright, maybe he didn't always give much evidence that indicated he was capable of rational thought when regarding his self-being, but, as he had already proven to his most inner circle, there was method in his madness. And he knew that taking sneak peeks when Coulson was concerned was madness without a method. Just pure, unadulterated, Reindeer-Games-style, madness.

"Okay, I give up. Could you just tell me what the hell is going on here? And don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't prefer this rather than being with Mister 'tall, dark and mysterious', but I don't like not knowing, and you know that, so it kind of unnerves me that you don't tell me anything. So come on, fire away. What do you want? 'Cause I know you probably would have saved my ass from Fury anyway, but this ride, that isn't normal. That's just you, trying - and let me tell you, just so you know – and failing, to be nice for some reason that my almighty-yet-only-human brain can't seem to process just yet."

Coulson sighed, but kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. Only when they stopped to let an old woman cross the street did Phil turn his head to the side and address Tony.

"I had really hoped it didn't have to come to this, but we've reached a dead end in our investigation and we need a bit of…external and unofficial help, for lack of a better term, someone that is capable of working off the radar. Normally we would use either Natasha or Clint, but the, let's just say, main subject of our investigation is acquainted with both of them. Steve could, but he's also too well known in those circles. Thor is obviously out of the question. The only two people left that we could trust are Bruce and you. And, as you can guess, we'd rather avoid getting Bruce in stressful situations if it can be helped. That leaves you as the only suitable person."

The old woman finished crossing the street, and Coulson wasted no time in going ahead.

"So" Tony interrupted, "Fury wanted to use that information as leverage, right? I mean, the fact that he knew my real age and all that."

Coulson nodded, and kept looking ahead while driving.

"He vaguely told me what he intended to do, but I disagreed. Told him that we'd better tell you first, noncommittally, of course, and prepare strategies and measures depending on your answer. But" he added, glancing briefly to Tony, "as you can guess, I think he didn't quite agree with that. By the time I had found out he was on his way to Wales it was too late to stop him, so I pulled a few strings and came here on the fastest Quinjet I found. And you know the rest."

"Okay, let me get this straight. First, you want me to work for S.H.I.E.L.D _unofficially_ because you're out of your depth. Second, you won't use Steve, one of the best strategists that there is, because _he is too well known_. Well, I hate to be the bringer of bad news, honey, but I think you've just forgotten who I am. I am a rich, famous billionaire. I somehow don't think I fit the 'anonymous' category too well, do I? And third, your people planned to _blackmail_ me to get my help! Please enlighten me, Phil, how the hell can I trust all of you now? And how would I, in the off chance I actually agreed to help you, be able to do whatever it is you need me to do without being recognized and shot on sight?"

By the time Tony's monologue had finished, Coulson had already pulled up in the underground parking lot of Tony's hotel. He and Tony stepped out of the car and walked to the elevator. Tony might not be an experienced agent like Coulson, but even he knew that talking about S.H.I.E.L.D affairs in a parking lot or elevator wasn't exactly brilliant. Coulson waited until they were inside Tony's room to answer his questions.

"First, if you want me to say it, I'll do: We, at S.H.I.E.L.D, are out of our depth and need your unofficial help to avoid the world turning into a war field. Second, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it's not exactly _you_ that is recognizable Tony. It's your goatee, your clothes, your act, your brain, your wits and the suit that people recognize. Take that away, and we get rid of Tony Stark and we have Anthony instead. And third, _we_ didn't plan to blackmail you, Fury did. As I had told you, my initial plan was to be sincere and tell you the facts so you could decide whether to help or not."

Tony plopped down on his bed and gestured Coulson to sit on the chair opposite him.

"So you plan to use Anthony, a 26 year old bloke nobody knows about, to infiltrate or whatever the hell it is you want me to do, and I can assume you have fake IDs, fake background and fake everything ready for me, right? And for some reason, you can't use _any_ of your numerous little loyal soldiers that are running around somewhere. Excuse me for being a little sceptical, but I still don't see why the hell I'm needed for that. You have hundreds of minions dying to fight your fight and do as you tell, no matter what. Why do you need _me_, or rather, fake me?"

"Because that is exactly what our suspects are waiting. They know we've reached a dead end and we can't do anything. They know we will try to use an agent to infiltrate, and an agent is what they'll be expecting. They know our agents, they know how they work, how they act, how they think, I've told you they know Clint and Natasha, and our agents have learnt from them. But you, you are different. You can work undercover almost the same way as them, but your MO is different from theirs. You think differently, you act differently, you are unpredictable, and you don't give a fuck about what Fury might do or think. He has no jurisdiction or influence over you; he can't tell you what to do, or how to do it, so you can do whatever it takes to accomplish the mission. _That_ is what our enemies aren't expecting. You'd have free rein, you wouldn't have to answer to us, but we'd be there to back you up if anything went wrong. We need you because you are unexpected."

"But if they are expecting you to make the first move and infiltrate an agent, they'll suspect, they won't trust me when I show up and they'll kill me."

"Tony, who said you'd show up at their headquarters with a homemade apple pie and ask for a job? No, they'll be the ones offering you a job; you'll earn their trust, because you'll do something for them before they know they _want_ you to work for them. I can't tell you more if you don't agree to do it, but we have a big plan ready, a… raid, you might say, and you won't be on our side, if you know what I mean. You won't be on theirs, either, you'll just be a casual bystander that will be forced to defend himself by, let's say, helping them. After that, they will probably give you a low key job, if you say and do the right things. But first things first, Anthony Edward Stark, are you in?"

"Aw, Agent, how could I say no, when you ask me like that?"


End file.
